


Chamomiles & Crocuses

by 13atoms (2Atoms)



Category: The Great (TV 2020)
Genre: Birthday, F/M, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:07:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27643216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2Atoms/pseuds/13atoms
Summary: A birthday fic. Established relationship, and a really great gift.
Relationships: Count Orlo / Reader, Orlo (The Great TV 2020)/Original Female Character(s), Orlo (The Great TV 2020)/You
Kudos: 10





	Chamomiles & Crocuses

ou huffed at the catty words of the ladies around you, reluctantly accepting your position at the centre of their circle as you thanked them over and over for their presents. Most had simply been thinly veiled jabs, excuses to call you plain or unfashionable. The ladies of the court likely thought themselves your saviours for gifting you broaches and wigs which you would never wish to buy for yourself.

“What did dearest Count Orlo get you?” Adina drawled, apparently unable to say your lover’s name without some hint of mocking.

You smiled pleasantly, wishing to be anywhere else.

“He is busy with the Emperor, serving his duties, I suppose.” You offered her an innocent shrug, refusing to feed her gossip. “I am sure he will save his gift for later.”

In truth he had already woken you up with the rub of his silk-soft hair on your inner thigh, his sleepy eyes meeting yours with a mumbled happy birthday and a far happier start to your morning under the familiar pleasure of his tongue.

Perhaps that version was too sordid for the ladies sat fanning themselves around you. The man had a reputation for boring seriousness to protect, after all.

“A shame. Men like that rarely think to buy proper gifts, I suppose.” Tatyana jabbed.

You ignored her.

As quickly as it had come the attention was pulled from you, turned to whatever horrifically expensive luxuries their husbands had bought them for birthdays over the years. You allowed yourself to tune them out until the growling of Adina’s stomach signalled lunch, slipping away with a servant in tow to drop the unwanted presents in your room.

Perhaps Orlo would help you burn them in the fireplace.

You pulled one of the more atrocious presents free from the pile. You shook the wig free from its box and onto your head, laughing at yourself in the mirror. It was a completely hideous style, not even matching the colour of your hair, and turned as Orlo opened the door to your shared room.

“What do you think?” you called to him.

His eyes sparkled with amusement, turning his gaze to you, the papers in his hands no longer of concern. He gave you a knowing smile so intimate it melted your heart, his head tilting a little as you pretended to model for a painting.

“Fuck. Please, do not start wearing that.”

“You do not like it?”

“Not in the slightest,” he informed you, deadpan. “You already have rather fine hair.”

You couldn’t help teasing him.

“But Orlo! It is such a kind present. They said I could now dress with the times! Is that not kind?”

He rolled his eyes, kissing you lightly on the lips before taking the opportunity to pull the wig from your head, depositing it back into the box with obvious distain.

“So kind. In fact, so kind I believe you ought to regift it to one of them.”

Orlo flipped the lid to the hat box closed, and you laughed at his hatred of the thing, touching it as reluctantly as if it were infected.

“Did any of the ladies gift you something you liked?”

“Rather nice shoes, from Catherine. Perhaps the only salvageable thing from a predictably horrendous birthday party,” you smiled, and Orlo’s look was unreadable as he unbuttoned his overcoat.

He stripped until he wore only his white shirt, a relief in the summer air, and you openly checked him out until he laughed at you. 

“Come on. I have something better planned.”

You had expected a walk in the grounds as he guided you outside, your arms linked together. Something pleasant and reminiscent of your first dates together, of the afternoons where he could escape his duties to spend time with nothing but your company.

Instead he led you to the front of the palace, towards a carriage prepared with horses and driver, a basket loaded onto the back. You were astounded.

“A carriage? Where are you taking me!”

His smile told you he had been waiting for your reaction, excited to surprise you.

“Telling you would ruin the surprise, my love.”

Concern kicked in, as quickly as fondness, for the man you were holding onto.

“Can you really afford to be so far from the palace? What if Peter needs something?”

Your arms untangled from each other as you approached the carriage, and Orlo reached for the door.

“Peter does not have to know. I bribed Velementov to cover for me.”

“Bribed?”

Orlo looked guilty, and you rolled your eyes.

“Blackmailed?” you tried.

That guess was more accurate, you supposed. Orlo said nothing but smiled cheekily as he held out a hand to help you into the carriage.

“He owes me.”

Inside you found a pair of wine glasses and a plate of fruit, and you wanted to hug Orlo in the confined space as he sat opposite you, a small smile on his face at your excitement. 

“Really, there was no need –”

“Let me spoil you, please.”

The view passed outside unobserved, you were too busy talking to the man opposite you, delighting in his refusal to spoil the surprise despite your best efforts to plead, tease, and threaten him into telling you.

You had no real care for the destination, but you knew he was revelling in organising something so lavish and thrilling for you.

Orlo refused to even allow you to carry the picnic blanket as the driver and his boy carried the wicker basket you had brought out into a field, following a path you could not discern as they walked to the brow of a hill. The Count walked beside you, a blanket tucked beneath his arm, following the servants at a more leisurely pace as you took in the beautiful greenery around you.

The air was temperate, Orlo’s hand in yours an anchor as he led you across the grass and wildflowers. As you approached the spot the men had converged upon, you finally understood Orlo’s choice of location.

It was gorgeous. A clear lake of pure blue, outlined by pine forest and rich with nature, a tiny island in the centre of the water filling your mind with fanciful tales of what it would be like to explore such a place. Orlo seemed most enthralled by watching your reaction, seeming to absorb every tiny microexpression as he tried to discern if you liked the surprise.

“Worth the journey?”

“I love it.”

You kissed him squarely, feeling his amusement under your lips.

He broke from you to spread the blanket out, helping you to the ground once he had spread the fabric evenly across the soft grass. The view was astonishing from the spot he had chosen, and you continued to gaze at it whilst Orlo settled himself beside the picnic basket before joining you on the ground.

He opened the wicker lid, but left all the food in its place for now. You didn’t mind, happy to spend as much time here as you could, absorbing the light and nature you hardly got to see in the vomit-stained walls of Peter’s palace. You felt the stress of your morning leave your body. A gentle breeze caused a slight rippled of the wildflowers around you, and you looked across the beauty of the field, reminding yourself to take a bundle of these beautiful chamomile and crocuses home. You could cherish them in a vase for a short time, dragging this beautiful date out just a little longer.

When you noticed a cabin beside you, you sighed wistfully, laying back on your elbows in bliss.

“I cannot imagine what it must be like to wake up here, surrounded by such a wonderful view. Do you think they mind, us being here?”

Orlo smiled at your consideration.

“I doubt it. It is a pretty building, no?”

“Like something from a fairytale,” you agreed, paying his comment no mind.

The eaves had been freshly painted, and yet they did not disturb the environment as they shadowed a small table. You could only dream of sitting there to each fresh fruit, bread, drink wine as the sun set. It was barely a two-hour’s travel from the edge of St. Petersburg here. You could bring meals from the palace and arrive with them warm.

It would be true living, to be here. Free from the tyranny and chaos of the palace. Perhaps Orlo could find peace, you could be free from the judgment of the other Ladies at court. This was enough, though. Your little escape for a single free afternoon Orlo could procure, a lavish picnic to come, and the taste of his lips on the journey home.

Still, it would be nice.

As you admired the beautiful dwelling, you felt him press a ribbon-decorated key into your hand.

“Happy birthday.”


End file.
